


Foolish Girl

by angelkuhling



Category: overwatch
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone calls Lena a puppy because she’s a time travelling puppy okay, F/F, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Lena is a dumb lesbian, Lena x Hana for best friendship ever okay, Pharmercy, Reaper is an ass but wbk, Widowtracer, a lot of canon deviation, and Widowmaker thinks so too, mom mercy as expected, pharah is a good mom and girlfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-01-16 10:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21269633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelkuhling/pseuds/angelkuhling
Summary: Lena Oxton is still feeling the loss of her mentor and her best friend. Widowmaker, on the other hand, feels nothing... right?





	1. Foolish

**Author's Note:**

> Cross posted to my tumblr cheerslovethesnipershere
> 
> Comments and feedback are always appreciated!

“Tracer, don’t you dare run off to find that sniper again. We nearly lost you the last time.”

Lena huffed at Pharah’s words as she slid on her bracers, “Oh please, you wouldn’t get rid of me that easy, love. Besides, she means no harm; to me anyway. If she wanted me dead she wouldn’t miss me every time.”

“Lena,” a stern voice spoke from behind Fareeha’s shoulder, “I want you to stay where I can see you. It doesn’t matter if she hadn’t fatally shot you yet, that shouldn’t be a risk you’re willing to take.”

“But-”

Angela raised an eyebrow at her protest, silently daring the younger woman to argue with her again. Lena sighed and crossed her arms, pouting a little at the combat medic.

“Fine. Whatever you say, mum.”

“It’s my job to keep you safe, child,” Angela ignored the mocking tone in her words, “I can’t very well do that if you’re out of range chasing after a woman you know might as well be dead.”

“Angela...” Hana spoke up from where she was fiddling with the controls on her new black and gold Meka, “Don’t go there.”

Hana knew how sensitive a topic Amélie’s kidnapping and brainwashing was for Lena, even though it’d been years by then. Even though Tracer herself had seen what she had become; even though she was well aware that Amélie was gone and Widowmaker had taken her place. Hana had seen the way Lena mourned the loss of her friend, the woman she had silent feelings for. Hana hadn’t been there when it happened, didn’t even know Amélie before Gérard’s murder, but she had held Lena while she sobbed after the first time she met Widowmaker. For her, that was enough to break her heart.

Lena had gone silent at Angela’s words, her face held an annoyed look that didn’t quite reach her sad eyes. She just dipped her head in digression, brushing past Fareeha to go stand with Hana instead. Her friend gave her a sympathetic smile and patted her hand, launching into some excited ramble about her Mech’s new features in an attempt to distract Lena.

“Must you be so harsh with her?” Brigitte questioned softly while leaning closer to Angela, “She’s reckless, yes, but she’s a strong girl. Mentioning past trauma so bluntly like that will only make her more likely to defy you.”

“When’d you get so soft, kid?” Jack Morrison grumbled, “Let Angela do her job, pestering people is how she shows affection.”

Angela shrugged off her teammates’ input, already regretting the way she handled things with Lena. Though Lena called her mom as a joke, Mercy did feel like a mother figure to the younger woman. Really, she felt like that was just part of her job; the team mom. Back in the day, Lena would come to her about everything and never hide anything from Angela. However, as of late it felt like there was a rift between them and they would butt heads more often than not.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, _Habibti_,” Fareeha’s low voice was gentle in her ear as she spoke the pet name warmly, “You didn’t mean to upset her like that. You two can work things out later, yes?”

Angela nodded, “I’ll speak with her after the mission. I really didn’t mean to bring it up like that... I sometimes forget how much it still hurts her.”

“You meant nothing malicious, Angela,” Pharah hummed in agreement, “It will be alright.”

“Thank you, Liebling,” Angela’s accent returned full force as she spoke in her mother tongue, “I do hope you’re right.”

“Landing in Paris in sixty seconds,” the robotic voice of Athena blared through the aircrafts speakers, “Prepare to attack.”

At the announcement of an ETA, Jack Morrison jumped back into his commander role. He started instructing people where to go and who to target, explaining once again the intent of this mission. Talon had taken some French diplomats hostage in a high rise building, ensuring maximum security would deter Overwatch from entering. That didn’t stop them, of course, and they had every intention of sending Talon scurrying home with their tails between their legs.

“Pharah, D.va, keep your eyes on the skies. Mercy, stay back and only jump it when necessary, I don’t have to remind you that healing is more important than fighting,” Angela nodded at his words, “Tracer, you’re on perimeter. Eliminate any enemies that threaten your teammates directly and keep them away from Mercy.”

“You got it, love,” Lena’s reply was missing her usual jovial giggle and happy tone, sounding more like it was said in Athena’s monotone accent.

Jack continued to ramble off orders, turning back to where Winston was operating the aircraft. He had offered the pilot’s chair to Lena before they left the watchpoint, but she had just offered him a nervous smile and a shake of her head. Planes weren’t bad anymore but flying them herself still sent her into intense panic attacks that even Angela had a hard time reversing. Even though it was years in the past, the Slipstream incident affected Lena more than she’d like to let on.

As Winston landed the plane, everyone got into position. Hana had gotten into her Mech, adjusting controls and testing her defence matrix. Brigitte was at her side, somehow still cracking jokes with the younger girl despite the dire mission.

Fareeha and Angela were speaking lowly to each other, making Lena smile despite herself when Angela adjusted Pharah’s hair under her helmet so it stayed out of her eyes. The two had clearly grown closer since Fareeha joined Overwatch and it was no secret that they were together at that point. There was always a certain softness between them, despite Fareeha’s gruffness and Angela’s no-nonsense attitude.

“Your accelerator is working fine?” Winston’s question broke Tracer from her thoughts, “No issues?”

“Right as rain, love,” Tracer promised, “Been ticking away as it should.”

“Good,” Winston nodded as he pocketed his glasses and nudged Lena forward, “Stay safe out there, Lena.”

“You too,” Tracer nodded just as the doors to the aircraft opened with Athena’s countdown.

“Tracer, keep your damn comm in your ear this time!” Soldier’s yell was barely heard over the sound of Hana’s meka as it’s rear boosters engaged and took her out into the sky. Lena flashed forward, quickly gaining distance between her and her team as she went to monitor the perimeter.

Winston took up the front, immediately storming the Talon base with everyone else close behind. Pharah and D.va had taken to the sky, though Hana quickly landed to assist the others. Tracer glanced behind her to keep an eye on Angela, who was hovering behind everyone with her Caduceus staff in hand.

“Mercy, I’m going ‘round back, let me know if you need me to recall back to you.”

“_Affirmative_,” Angela’s soft voice spoke in her ear, _“I’ll be fine, Tracer.”_

With that, Lena was off, making it to the back of the building in record time. She searched back entrances for any minor Talon agents, ensuring that she was alone. She secured the doors with the motion alarms Winston had given her, which would directly notify them if someone tripped the sensor. She was just about to go back to check on Angela when Hana’s slightly out of breath warning came through the comm.

_“Sniper! Don’t get caught!”_

Lena perked up a bit at that, so she did show up. She placed the last motion sensor absentmindedly and then glanced around her to ensure no one was around. Clearly someone knew of her intentions because her comm crackled with an incoming message again.

_“Lena Oxton, don’t you da-”_

Angela’s warning was cut off when Tracer yanked the earpiece out and let it drop into the strap of her accelerator. She checked the charge and saw the blinking 94%, immediately jumping forward in time to get to the roof quickly. She sent a silent apology to her teammates, especially Mercy, but told herself she was doing this to protect them.

“Cheers, love,” Lena giggled as she flashed forward to stand behind the willowy woman near the edge of the roof, “The cavalry’s here.”

She made no move to shoot and neither did the sniper, who instead turned to face her with a stoic expression, _“Chérie.”_

“Fancy seeing you here,” Tracer recalled backwards when Widowmaker took a step too close for her liking, “Almost thought Talon woulda given up on you. Fifty shots, one kill, eh?”

“Watch yourself, _petite fille_,” the way her voice litted when she spoke in her native tongue seemed so Amélie that Lena felt her heart clench painfully.

“Ah, just kidding around, love.” Lena giggles nervously as she rubbed at the back of her neck, “So what, I come all the way up here to see you, defying orders I might add; Mercy’s gonna have my arse, and you just wanna talk? No warning shot, no fist fight even? Have you lost your edge, dear Widowmaker?”

“Do you have a deathwish, _mademoiselle_ Oxton?” The formal remark said in Amélie’s voice hurt more than she’d let on, “Is that what this is for you? _Une rendez-vous avec la mort?”_

“Aw, love, if I had known this was a date I would have dressed nicer,” Lena mused playfully, “Woulda brought you flowers or somethin’.”

Widowmaker sighed deeply, taking a step towards the small woman who was watching her with wide dark eyes behind her goggles. Her dancers legs gave her a lot of height on Tracer, making it so two large steps were all she needed to cross the distance between them.

Lena was a bit shocked when the distance between them shrunk so quickly that Widowmaker was almost immediately towering over her. She backed up a bit more only to be met with the wall of the storage container behind her, yelping a little at the contact.

“Oh? What’s this?” Widowmaker’s voice was mocking and a smirk played on her lips, “The mighty Tracer startled so easily? Not so confident when you can’t put distance between you and your enemies, huh, _Chérie_?”

“Oh, come off it,” Lena didn’t want to admit how unease those unreadable golden eyes made her, “You don’t scare me, love. No offense.”

Widowmaker hummed in thought before lifting her gun to tilt Lena’s chin up, forcing eye contact, “Is that so?”

“You haven’t killed me yet,” Lena murmured, “If you wanted me dead I would have been so ages ago. Either you’ve lost your touch, or I’ve grown on you.”

“Ah,” Widowmaker chuckled lowly, “Haven’t you ever seen a spider tease her prey before, _chérie_? Killing you immediately would take all the fun out of it, and it does get dreadfully boring up on this roof all alone.”

Tracer felt the muzzle of the gun nudge the dip in her shoulder in a teasing manner, trying to hide her flinch as she stayed silent. She wasn’t usually this jumpy and certainly would never back down from a fight. She just wouldn’t admit how entranced and distracted she became in Widowmaker’s presence.

“Besides,” the tall woman purred as she leaned closer to Lena, “You’re hardly a threat, darling. Just a hyperactive puppy who thinks she can save the world. It’s almost cute... _mais pathétique_.”

“You’re bluffing, love,” Lena finally spoke, trying to regain confidence, “Since when did you back down from a fight?”

Widowmaker just shrugged, one hand coming up to rest on the wall beside Lena’s head. Lena’s breathing hitched as she felt her warm breath on her skin, hands coming up ready to shove the other woman away.

“Like I said, Lena; it’s cute.”

Lena felt her heart clench painfully at those words, the way she said her name sounded so much like Amélie that it made her feel queasy. The ache in her chest was amplified by the weight of her accelerator on her body, making her want to cry because she was so close, yet deep down Lena knew; Amélie was gone. She still couldn’t stop herself from whispering in a pained voice.

“Amé...”

Widowmaker raised an eyebrow, golden eyes observing her with an almost pitying look, “Oh, _tu pauvre fille_. Amélie is gone, you know that.”

“I- please... don’t.”

The way Lena’s voice wavered made Widowmaker shake her head. She didn’t remember much of her life as Amélie Lacroix, but she did have some memory of a particular hyper overwatch agent. Memories that seemed bittersweet, though Widowmaker herself wasn’t too sure what emotion connected to them anymore. She could remember the fondness Lena used to look at Amélie with, and it was pretty obvious that she had once felt more than friendship for her mentor’s wife.

“It’s time to let go, Lena,” Widowmaker said firmly, but surprisingly not unkind, “You can’t keep doing this. I am not her, _chérie_, I will never be her again.”

Lena tried to hard to put on a brave face as she replied, “We could help you! Widowmaker, please, Mercy could bring Amé back...”

“It’s too late, foolish girl,” Widowmaker trailed a surprisingly gentle hand down Tracer’s cheek, “You have to let her go.”

Before Lena could respond, a raspy warning came from behind them, “Widowmaker... The mission does not include fraternizing with the enemy.”

Letting go of Tracer, the sniper turned to face Reaper, who somehow looked disappointed though his face was an unmoving white mask. Widowmaker chuckled lowly, her body language just as relaxed as before.

“Oh I’m just playing around, Reaper, _mon ami_,” despite her words, her tone was not friendly at all.

“And yet, you’ve not killed her? Have you lost your touch, Widowmaker? Are you becoming soft?” Reaper’s hands tightened around his guns, “Moira will not hesitate to increase your treatments, if necessary.”

“She is not my target,” Widowmaker recited slowly, “She did not make a move to shoot me or even stop me. If anything, she is but a distraction.”

“Widowmaker,” Reaper’s warning wasn’t growled out, “Don’t test me.”

“She is not my target,” She glanced back at Tracer as she repeated herself firmly. The girl was standing absolutely still, having raised her blasters with shaking hands. She was almost hiding behind Widowmaker, as though she trusted her enough to protect her from the shell of Gabriel Reyes.

Reaper huffed and raised one of his guns in the blink of an eye, too fast for either woman to react by raising their own guns. Widowmaker flinched and jumped to the side, expecting Lena to recall out of the way like she so often did while they were fighting. However, a yelp of pain told her otherwise and she immediately spun on her heels to see Tracer crumpling to the ground.

“We’re leaving in 20 minutes, don’t miss the ship and stop making dumb mistakes. You are but a machine, Widowmaker, don’t make me shut you down.”

With that, Reaper disappeared from the roof, shifting to wraith form. Widowmaker watched him leave with baited breath and then turned to Lena, who was white as a sheet and breathing shallowly.

“Oh, you foolish girl,” Widowmaker crooned as she crouched beside the younger woman, “Why didn’t you recall out of the way?”

Tracer was clutching at her thigh, blood seeping through the obnoxious orange spandex she always wore and staining her hands red. She huffed and rolled her eyes the best she could, “W-Was a little... distracted, love.”

Widowmaker sighed and brushed Lena’s spiky, unruly hair from her eyes, “God, you’re quite the magnet for trouble, aren’t you.”

Noticing the signs of shock setting in and realizing Lena was having trouble keeping her eyes open, Widowmaker knew she needed to make a decision. She could kill her, that was what her programming was tell her to do, but she didn’t think she could do it. Even if it was to put the girl out of her misery and rid herself of an annoying pest, there was a tiny voice screaming in her mind to save her.

Ignoring Lena’s protests, Widowmaker grabbed the communications device that was hanging from her accelerator. She brought it up to her ear and pressed a button, hearing a beep and then multiple overwatch agents’ voices calling for Lena.

“Angela Ziegler,” Widowmaker spoke coldly, “Your puppy got off her leash.”

The comm crackled and a confused voice spoke in accented English, “Amélie?”

“Widowmaker,” she corrected through gritted teeth, “She’s been shot, Ziegler. Shock setting in and losing consciousness, you’d best come work your magic before I have to put her down.”

“I-,” Mercy was stumbling over her words as she came to terms with what had been said, “You didn’t kill her?”

“I was not the one who shot her,” Widowmaker replied, “She is not my target.”

“Amélie, I-.”

“That is not my name, _madam_ Ziegler,” the French woman warned lowly, “Come save your little pest before it is too late.”

With that she dropped the comm and turned to Lena again, who was shaking like a leaf as her body temperature dropped. Widowmaker frowned and brushed a gloved hand over her sweaty forehead,_ “Pauvre chiot.”_

“W-why do you always... why do you c-call me that?”

Widowmaker’s golden eyes glinted with a surprisingly amount of fondness, “You are like a puppy, non? Annoying and loud, but I do suppose you’re cute to some.”

“W-well aren’t you... quite the charmer,” Lena gasped as she shifted and a spark of pain shot through her leg. She heard someone calling her name in the distance and watched with glassy eyes as Widowmaker glanced over her shoulder.

“Your friends will be here for you soon,” she spoke in a strangely gentle way, “Stay out of trouble, little pup.”

“Amé... please stay.”

Widowmaker smiled at her sadly, not bothering to correct the woman who was clearly in shock, _“Adieu, Chérie.”_

With that, she left Tracer slumped against the storage unit, knowing her family would find her in the next couple minutes. She threw her grapple to the rooftop across the way, spotting the talon ship hovering nearby.

With a glance over her shoulder she saw a familiar blonde figure crouching over Lena’s body. Widowmaker sighed and shifted her gun sling over her back.

“Stay alive, foolish girl.”


	2. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: some swearing, medical talk, Angela is a helicopter mum, Lena is still a dumb lesbian, Hana and Lena are soft sisters, Angie and Fareeha are Best Mums But also Angela needs a goddamn nap 
> 
> Cross posted to my tumblr cheerslovethesnipershere
> 
> Comments are always appreciated <3

“LENA OXTON, WHAT THE FUCK.”

“Hana,” A soft voice murmured from across the room, “Volume down please, people are trying to heal.”

“Yeah yeah, sorry, _eomma_,” Hana waved a hand at Mercy, letting the door close behind her. She crossed the room to the hospital bed, glaring at the tiny woman slumped against the pillows.

“Lena, what the fuck,” Hana repeated at a much lower volume, “What were you thinking?”

“Hana, please don’t pester her,” Fareeha spoke from her seat on the couch, “Angela already reprimanded her enough.”

The blonde tucked protectively under Fareeha’s arm smacked her shoulder lightly in reproach, “She deserved it.”

“She got shot, _Habibti_,” her girlfriend reminded her gently, “She’s been punished enough for now.”

Lena grumbled something from under her scratchy hospital issued blanket, making everyone turn to her. Her skin was still a sickly pallor, though she did look a bit more alert despite the amount of morphine she was on. Her unruly hair was still that, fluffed up against her pillow.

“I didn’t intend on getting shot, Love,” Tracer rasped lowly, dark eyes apologetic as she looked at her best friend.

“But you did,” Hana concluded, “All because of Widowmaker.”

“No...” Lena frowned, “She saved me. Reyes would have killed me if she’d not been there.”

Hana looked back at Mercy for help but Angela just shook her head, “She has a point... We all heard her over the comm.”

“She... she’s not as bad as you want to believe,” Lena murmured in a way that sounded almost meek, “It seemed like she broke through her programming... at one point she sounded just like Amé.”

Angela hummed and shifted against Fareeha to look at Lena, “She did sound a bit more emotional than in the past. Not to mention her not killing you and also contacting us. That was very odd.”

“She’s still in there, Angie,” Lena’s voice cracked a little as she willed Angela to understand, “She’s not dead.”

Hana saw tears welling in Lena’s eyes and frowned, reaching over to take her hand. Lena gave her a weak smile and slumped back against her pillows when Angela didn’t respond. Hana sat down on the edge of the bed, brushing her friend’s hair out of her eyes before speaking.

“So, aside from the obvious, how are you feeling, Lee?”

Lena shrugged, leaning a bit into Hana’s touch, “Like I got shot.”

Hana rolled her eyes, “No duh, _pabo_,” stupid; Lena knew what that one meant.

“I don’t know,” Lena lifted her hand to show the IV taped in place, “Good drugs. Can’t move though, then it hurts.”

“What’s the actual diagnosis, Doc?” Hana asked Angela, who’d gotten up from her place in Fareeha’s arms and was over at the counter looking at files.

“Bullet wound to the upper thigh, just missed the femoral artery. No exit wound but unless the bullet begins to cause issues there is no logical reason to remove it.” She looked at Lena pointedly, “You’re lucky, Reaper usually isn’t that kind. In any other instance he would have aimed for your head.”

“Amé... I mean Widowmaker was too close,” Lena replied, “He knew she would have fought him.”

“Acting out to protect the enemy like that is not logical on her part,” Fareeha began, “Especially if she’s breaking through her programming; God knows what Talon might do to her.”

“Angie... is there any way to get her out?”

Mercy’s blue eyes were stern as she spoke again, “Lena, we cannot risk our lives to save her. She’s still a brainwashed assassin, and a very good one at that. We do not need another Gérard situation.”

“But-“

Angela held up a hand, “_Süsse_, please do not push it. Unless she comes to us willingly and asks for me to reverse their brainwashing, I will not interfere.”

Lena gave Angela a sour face at the pet name, not in the mood to be babied. She sighed and nodded in digression, knowing better than to push the older woman any further.

“_Eomma_?”

Angela couldn’t help but smile when Hana called her mom, “Yes, Hana?”

“When can Lena come back to the safe house?” They had a safe house in every major city, since Overwatch activity was technically illegal; it was better to stay hidden. Their Paris safe house wasn’t very big, but in an instance like this it wasn’t possible for them to leave for a still operating watchpoint just yet.

“If she doesn’t develop a fever or infection she can go home in the next couple days. No walking though. Wheelchair for the time being and then crutches when you get your strength back, Lena.”

Lena groaned, “You’ve got to be kidding,” she pouted at Mercy, “How long?”

“You will probably be walking in 4-6 weeks. We will need to do physiotherapy to avoid muscle damage and I want to keep a close eye on your progress. No missions or running for a while, I’m afraid.”

“Angie! That’s so long!”

The doctor shrugged, “Maybe you’ll think next time before you go running into danger without backup.”

“Angela,” Fareeha said gently, “Be nice.”

“She deserves to know how utterly stupid that was.”

“And I’m sure she does, darling,” Fareeha has stood and cross the room to her girlfriend, “But you’re not helping.”

Angela just glared up at the taller woman for a moment before sighing. She walked over to Lena, checking her vitals on the monitor and adjusting the morphine drip. When she was finished she glanced down at the younger girl, who was staring at her with apologetic puppy eyes.

“I’m sorry, Lena,” Angela leaned down to drop a kiss to her head, “I will try to speed up your healing as best I can. We can talk about this later, but I’m not angry. You just scared me, I don’t want to lose you.”

Lena smiled in spite of herself at the affection and her honesty, “I’m sorry too, mum. I’ll try to be careful in the future.”

“Please do, for the sake of my poor old heart.”

Hana rolled her eyes, “You’re not old, Angie.”

“Feels like it,” Angela stood up straight and flinched when her back implant pinched at her skin. She went back over to Fareeha, who immediately placed a gentle hand on her back as she sensed her discomfort.

“Why don’t you go rest, Angela? I can take you home and then come back and watch the pup, she will be fine.”

“What is it with all of you and calling me a puppy?” Lena grumbled, a pout on her face as she listened to her teammates.

“I should stay...”

“_Habibti_, you need sleep. Please, I’ll stay with Lena until she sleeps and then I will come back home, yes? I’ll bring Hana home with me.”

Angela sighed and rubbed her tired eyes, “Alright.”

Fareeha smiled and pressed a kiss to her temple, letting Angela collect her papers and bag before leading her out into the hallway. The younger girls watched them go, Hana sighing when the door shut completely.

“Angie’s been a mess since you got shot,” she explained seriously, “You were out for two days, I’m sure you’re aware.”

Lena nodded, frowning, “Has she slept at all?”

“Not really,” Hana replied, “Fareeha’s coaxed her to take naps on the couch but this is the first time she’ll be going home since. She’s been living at the hospital with you.”

Lena sighed, feeling bad for the stress she’d clearly caused Angela. She rubbed her hand over her face, feeling her own eyes droop with sleep as the morphine hit her again; Mercy must have increased her dosage.

“Sleepy?” Hana’s voice was slightly teasing as she patted Lena’s arm gently.

“Mhm,” Lena nodded, “Meds are strong.”

“Lucky you,” the younger girl laughed and glanced back at the door, “Want me to leave so you can sleep?”

“Nuh-uh,” the small woman stifled a yawn, “Hana?”

“What’s up, Lee?”

“Cuddle?”

Hana scrunched up her face in mock disgust, “Ew, affection? Gross.” When Lena flashed her signature puppy eyes though, Hana dropped the act, “You’re lucky you’re cute, dummy.”

Hana got off the bed and helped Lena move over carefully, trying not to jostle her leg. She pulled back the blankets and climbed up beside her friend, laying down and covering them both up. Once Hana was situated, Lena smiled at her and snuggled as close as she could; though it was difficult since she was stuck laying on her back.

“Better?”

Lena hummed in agreement, “You’re warm.” She leaned her head against Hana’s shoulder, “Who’s all at the safe house?”

“Angie, Fareeha, Jack, and Mei,” Hana replied, “Then me and Brig. And you, in a few days.”

“Ah, how is Brigitte?” Lena’s voice held a teasing edge to it. There was no secret that Hana and the Swedish mechanic-turned-healer were involved, but the extent of their relationship wasn’t as clear.

Hana turned a shade of pink that would put her original meka to shame, “S-she’s fine. We’re good... great actually.”

Lena giggled at her reaction, “You two official yet?”

Knowing she wouldn’t escape this conversation, Hana sighed, “Not yet. I mean, I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?”

The Korean girl shrugged, “We’ve been taking things slow. She knows I’m... apprehensive about relationships, and she respects that.”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Lena poked at Hana’s reddened cheek, “Brig is a good person.”

The smile that fell on Hana’s lips was genuine and full of adoration, “She’s lovely and I really do love spending time with her... It’s just hard, Y’know? After Yuna...”

Tracer knew all about Dva’s past relationship with her meka teammate Yuna, code name Dmon. It ended when Hana decided to join Overwatch, which took her away from Korea and her friends in the army. Yuna had been supportive but very firm in her view that Hana was leaving a whole life behind and she might not be around when the other girl returned home. It was really hard on Hana and Lena knew that, especially since finding out that Yuna and Kyungsoo had ended up getting engaged recently.

“I know, love. And I’m sure Brigitte is going to be understanding and patient for you. Just don’t keep the girl waiting too long, yeah? She’s quite the catch.”

“Hands off, Oxton,” Hana joked at Lena’s implication.

Lena raised her hands in mock defence, “She’s all yours, Song.”

Hana laughed and knocked her head lightly against Lena’s, “I miss hanging out with you.”

“I miss you too, love,” the older girl replied sincerely, “Should come visit me back in London when you get the chance. Figure I’ll be on leave for a while once Angie lets me out of her sight.”

“Maybe I will,” Hana agreed happily, “London is nice.”

The room fell into a comfortable silence for a while, save for the beeping of Lena’s heart monitor and the hum the morphine pump. Hana wrapped an arm around Lena as she turned on her side, getting comfy once again. The two had grown a lot closer since Dva joined overwatch, it was a given since Lena was the closest to Hana’s age next to Brigitte. Despite the seven year age different between them, they’d quickly become close friends. Lena has began seeing Hana as a little sister and she would do anything to protect her.

“Lee?”

Lena hummed sleepily, “Yeah?”

Hana’s voice seemed apprehensive, “Can I ask you something?”

Lena raised an eyebrow and turned her head to look at the younger girl, “What’s on your mind, love?”

“Could you tell me about Amélie?” Hana winced at the way Lena’s eyes portrayed her pain, “If it’s not to hard on you.”

Lena put on a brave face, though talking about her best friend who might as well be dead was still painful, “What do you want to know, Hana?”

“What was she like? I never met her but you seemed to be rather fond of her. I’ve heard she was lovely to be around.”

“She was lovely,” Lena began in a soft tone, “So lovely. She seemed a bit snobbish in the beginning but I think that just comes with her being a countess, you know? Once we actually spent time together I realized how sweet she actually was. She was so joyful and her laugh, God, Hana, her laugh was so adorable you just couldn’t help but smile when you heard it.”

Hana smiled sadly at the way Lena’s eyes were melancholic, knowing the memories were all very bittersweet to her now. She patted Lena’s hand lightly, “I’m sure it was pretty. She was very beautiful in the photos I’ve seen.”

Widowmaker may have Amélie’s body but she did not resemble the woman much at all. Amélie hadn’t been as thin, having a nice dancer’s build with a little more meat on her bones. Widowmaker’s blue skin was pulled taunt over bone, clearly due to the fact that she no longer needed to eat. Amélie had the kindest soft grey eyes Lena had even seen as well, which made Widowmaker’s contrasting golden eyes all the more unsettling. Widowmaker’s mannerisms were a little more similar, but her demeanour contrasted so much with Amélie’s that she barely seemed like the same person anymore.

“She was gorgeous,” Lena agreed with a sure nod, “A dancer too. So strong and sure of herself, seeing her dance was absolutely breathtaking.”

“Lena?”

The older girl made a sound in reply, lost I thought now as she remembered her past with Amélie and Gérard.

Taking that as a response, Hana continued cautiously, “Did you...love her?”

“Uh,” Lena was a bit taken aback, “I... well I never admitted it; never really liked to think about it. She was my mentor’s wife, Hana, I couldn’t have feelings for her.”

“But you did,” Hana concluded, knowing the answer already.

“Yeah.” 

Hana took her hand and laced their fingers together, giving Lena’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “I’m sorry, Lena.”

“It’s okay,” Lena said even though it really wasn’t and never had been okay, “I miss her but... Angela’s right. Unless Widowmaker comes to us for help, we can’t change what happened. We don’t even know if Mercy could reverse the brainwashing, Talon’s had her for so long now. The other day could have ended a lot differently, I’m just as surprised that she didn’t decide to kill me.”

“It’s okay to hurt over it still, Lena. Your feelings are valid and it’s okay to mourn the loss of your friend. Maybe you should have thought before you acted yes, but Widowmaker didn’t kill you and that’s all that matters right now.” Hana looked at her pointedly, “But please no more running head first into danger like that. I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me, love,” Lena promised, “I’ll be here to be your annoying big sister forever.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Oxton.”

Lena laughed and Hana did too, though her’s was partially interrupted with a yawn.

“Sleepy?” Lena echoed her friend’s earlier question, earning a nod from the younger.

“Yeah,” Hana replied as she threw her arm back across Lena’s waist, “Nap time.”

With a chuckle, Lena wrapped her arms around her best friend, watching as she snuggled closer and closed her eyes. It was times like this where Hana’s true age showed, where she was just a nineteen year old girl and not a soldier or a superstar gamer. She was just Hana Song, a sweet girl who worked too hard and worried too often. This was the Hana that Lena felt drawn to protect, her baby sister who she knew wasn’t always as strong as she forced herself to be.

Hana had fallen asleep quickly, leaving Lena awake and left to her own devices. She was basically immobilized due to her leg and half of Hana’s weight resting on her, so she occupied herself by glancing around the room. It was a normal hospital room, small and all white with the usual equipment. There was a tiny couch and a counter with a sink across the room, and a door that led to the small bathroom across the way. The main door was creaked open, making Lena jump until she realized it was just Fareeha.

“Hey there, little pup,” the Egyptian woman spoke softly when she saw Hana was asleep, “How are you feeling?”

Lena smiled at her, “Sleepy, but not bad, love. How’s Angie?”

“Overworked, but she’ll be fine,” Fareeha replied with a sure nod, “She’s stubborn but she means well.”

Lena was about to answer when a yawn interrupted her, making Fareeha laugh in that charming booming way that made everyone smile.

“Why don’t you rest, little one?”

“Nervous,” Lena admitted quietly, “Don’t like unfamiliar rooms, especially hospitals, reminds me too much of after the accident.”

Fareeha crossed the room and dragged the single chair closer to the bed, “Oh, you poor thing. Hopefully you’ll get home soon, that will make things easier I figure.”

Lena nodded and smiled when Fareeha’s warm hand brushed over her forehead. The older woman was so gentle, contrasting her stern appearance and large, muscular body. She was undeniably handsome, in a way that everyone was so drawn to her. Not to mention her way of speaking was so eloquent and reassuring that her presence soothed Lena almost immediately.

“Would you like me to sing something,” Fareeha questioned nonchalantly, “It used to help keep you calm, no?”

After the slipstream incident, Lena had been contained in a see through glass bubble as Winston and Mercy worked to keep her anchored to this world. As she was drifting in and out of the time frame, the young woman would often have panic attacks. Fareeha was usually there to bear witness to the attacks, since she was almost always around Angela. She had been the one to keep Lena calm, surprisingly, by singing her lullabies in Arabic.

“Sure,” Lena replied with a smile at the other woman, “That’d be nice.”

So Lena snuggled back down into her blankets, Hana’s body heat keeping her warm and feeling safe. Fareeha kept a hand on her hair, running her fingers through it gently as she began to sing a lullaby that had become rather familiar to Lena. It was called_ Nami Nami_, “Sleep sleep” or something along those lines, and it was one of Lena’s favourites. Fareeha’s singing voice was low and pleasant, immediately surrounding Lena in a sense of calm and comfort.

Soon enough Lena began to drift off, letting her eyes flutter closed as Fareeha’s voice lulled her into sleep. She was almost completely asleep when she felt the faintest brush of lips on her forehead.

“Rest well, little one. Heal nice and strong, we need you on our team again.”


	3. Brainwashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Widowmaker is the perfect assassin; calculated, calm, never faltering. She is Arguably Talon’s best asset. How they treat their prized member behind closed doors is another story, though. How their ace sniper feels is also questionable, especially since the answer should be that she doesn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I am so sorry I abandoned this book since November. I have been struggling with a lot due to the pandemic and my own life, so I got sidetracked and also had major writers block. I do hope this chapter makes up for it. We get to see a side of our favourite assassin in a new light, which may help explain her actions in previous chapters. 
> 
> As always, this is crossposted to my tumblr @cheerslovethesnipershere and comments, kudos, and support are always welcome and appreciated! School starts for me in two weeks so I am not sure how frequently I will post, but please bear with me as I adjust to uni classes online.
> 
> Content Warnings: swearing, mentions of weapons and injuries, canon-typical violence and the works, Reaper (he deserves his own warning 😂)

Widowmaker pushed herself off the lumpy, Talon issued cot. The thing was barely considered a bed, no pillow to aid in comfort or posture, with only a thin blanket that scratched roughly at her skin. Still, Widowmaker couldn’t complain; it’s not like she felt the cold anyway. She also didn’t often rest, it just wasn’t necessary anymore, so the cot was mostly a formality.

She looked around her chamber with distaste, forgetting just how drab the whole place was. Her room in Talon always felt like a prison cell, with cement walls and floor and a broken door leading to a small bathroom. There was no personality to the room, the walls were bare and the only sign of life was her hairbrush discarded on the dresser and her own presence. The dresser contained training uniforms and various recreations of her Talon catsuit, an illogical outfit choice for battle but she could not argue. She was just a machine, an object; her opinion did not matter.

She collected her hairbrush and an elastic off the dresser, crossing the chamber to enter the bathroom. She stood in front of the dusty mirror, observing her own reflection in distaste. Her hair was down, something that occurred only when she slept, tumbling over her shoulders in a blue-black mess. Her skin was more pale than usual, it’s blue hue making her seem sickly. What didn’t help was the considerable bruises blooming on her face, highlighting the permanent dark circles under her eyes from the treatments that turned her into Widowmaker.

The bruises, she noted with an eye roll, were Reaper’s gift to her. “A gift,” he said, since she had been so disobedient. She did not off the Oxton girl when given a chance, she directly disobeyed orders and spoke back to her superior. That was asking for punishment, he explain, before landing a calculated punch to her face. Widowmaker had barely flinched at the contact, though the force of it sent her reeling backwards. With a few more hits Reaper ended up breaking her nose and leaving her with a particularly angry bruise across her cheekbone.

Moira had chastised her as she reset her nose and healed it with her scientific magic that Widowmaker would never understand. The older woman was not unkind to her, not directly, she was just cold. The scientist had no empathy in her body, purely apathetic and focusing only on the medical aspect of everything. She only fixed Widow because she was Moira’s creation, her guinea pig; a broken machine cannot function properly. She told Widowmaker that angering Reaper was a mistake, as if it wasn’t obvious, and the French woman had best smarten up. She could have healed her bruises as she fixed her broken bone in mere minutes, but left it as a reminder of her disobedience. A warning that she may not be so lucky next time.

With a huff at the memory, Widowmaker began to run the brush through her hair. She let her mind wander as she worked the knots from her inky blue locks. She wasn’t allowed to let herself to have idle thought, as she was only supposed to think what was put into her head, but no one was there to stop her this time. As she pulled her hair back into its signature ponytail, she let her thoughts fall on a particularly hyper Brit.

Tracer was someone that annoyed Widowmaker to no end. Her constantly giggling and flashing around like a mosquito she could never kill was irritating beyond belief. The sniper had wanted to kill her on multiple occasions, and had the chance almost every time, but she never pulled the trigger. She wasn’t sure why, since she only ever felt truly alive after a kill. Getting rid of Lena would cross a pest off her list and make her job a hell of a lot easier, yet there was something in her mind screaming to keep the girl alive.

With her hair finished, Widowmaker went back to her room to collect her training uniform. She hated wearing her mission suits and, though her superiors preferred her to be mission ready at all times, she would only don her catsuit when absolutely necessary. She saw the way the other agents sneered at her, no doubt objectifying her body in that skintight menace of a suit. They all got armour and protection in their uniforms, but Widowmaker’s was merely a means of demeaning her. She supposed that was the point, to treat her like the object they saw her as. She couldn’t argue, but she could avoid the outfit for as long as possible.

Her training outfits weren’t much better. Still skintight, a pair of athletic tights and a white tank top with the Talon insignia over her heart. She was able to wear a sports bra with this outfit, which gave some support her catsuits lacked. She had been chastised for it before, her hatred for her uniforms; apparently a machine should not care about being objectified. Widowmaker thought that was absurd, since she did still have some human left in her. Besides, her training outfits were more practical and comfortable, giving her more range of motion in their soft cotton and spandex than her suit ever did.

A knock on her chamber door just as she was drawing her jacket on caught Widowmaker’s attention. She sighed and flicked her ponytail over her should, making her way to the metal door that led out to the hallway.

Out in the hall stood the man himself, the shell of Overwatch agent Gabriel Reyes. She supposed that was secret information, but it wasn’t hard to figure out. Widowmaker still held some of Lacroix’s memories, though they were fuzzy. She remembered Reyes, his mannerisms and attitude, and had seen the files Talon kept on Reaper. Moira was easily prompted to brag about her “best accomplishment” and spoke proudly about how she kept Reyes from death. Really it was too easy and Widowmaker had known for a while just who Reaper used to be, and she supposed Overwatch knew by now too.

_ “Oui?” _

“Widowmaker,” Reaper was slouched against her doorframe, “Functioning status?”

The woman tried to hide her annoyance, “Functional and ready for work, sir.”

He nodded, somehow seeming amused despite the unmoving white mask covering his features, or what was left of them anyway. He looked her up and down for a moment before speaking again.

“You are not in your uniform, Widowmaker.”

“I have not been assigned a mission yet, Sir,” she explained in a monotone voice, “Training clothes allow more range of motion for daily activities.”

“I see,” he did not sound impressed, “Well, Doomfist seems to have a mission for you; he requested your presence in the meeting room.”

“Very well,” Widowmaker agreed as she straightened her posture, “Shall I follow you to the room or am I allowed to go on my own?”

“I will take you. We wouldn’t want such an important machine getting lost on her way, would we?”

Widowmaker gritted her teeth, _“Non.”_

***

No more than forty minutes later, Widowmaker was back in her chamber and shimmying her way into that suit she despised so much. She hated the way it formed to her borderline emaciated body, all of the muscle and healthy fat that Lacroix had was lost due to Widowmaker’s lack of food intake and constant running across rooftops. Her metabolic processes had been slowed so she need not eat much, but that also meant her body had adapted to the lack of nutrients. Lacroix’s muscular dancer’s body had been altered to better suit combat, but it was also failing as her humanity was slowly sucked away through Widowmaker’s treatments.

“Where’s my favourite spider going?” a smug voice crooned from the corner, making Widowmaker jump. Sat cross-legged on her cot, which was empty a mere moment ago, was a particular pest that she would have no trouble pulling the trigger for.

“Sombra,” she snapped as she glanced over her shoulder at the hacker, “_Pour l’amour de Dieu..._”

Widowmaker made a mental note to always search her room for glowing purple translocators in the future.

“Always so grumpy,” the purple haired woman giggled annoyingly, “What’s your problem?”

“You’re in my room,” Widowmaker rolled her eyes, “I would prefer if you didn’t translocate into places you are not invited.”

“Well that would be counterproductive.”

“What do you want, Sombra?”

The Mexican woman hopped to her feet, smirk returning, “Where are you going?”

“Mission.”

“Not to see your precious lil girlfriend?”

The teasing tone and implications in her voice made Widowmaker want to hit her, “I don’t like what you’re insinuating.”

“Just thought you’d be worried about your poor foolish Overwatch agent,” Sombra grinned, “Since you couldn’t stop Reaper from trying to do your job.”

“She was not my target,” Widowmaker said firmly, “And that is not your business.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Widowmaker. I’m your best friend, why won’t you be honest with me about your little girlfriend?” 

“We are not friends,” Widowmaker spat, “And I have a plane to be on.” 

With that she walked past Sombra, ponytail swinging, and headed down the hallway. Sombra was the most irritating person she had met in Talon, and that was saying something. Her loyalty had always been skewed and it seemed the hacker would turn on them if the opportunity benefited her, but no one seemed to care. Widowmaker hated how smug and nosy she was, but this was just another thing a machine wasn’t allowed to care about.

She stopped by the armoury to pick up her things, slinging her gun over her shoulder so she could attach her venom mine cuff to her suit. She pocketed a few extra mines, locking them in a specially made compartment so they didn’t accidentally activate. After collecting her grapple and securing her helmet over her head, she made her way to the hangar. 

The Paris Talon base was small, since it wasn’t often occupied. This was where Talon took her the first time she had been kidnapped. It was also where Overwatch had taken her from after she had been made a sleeper agent, unbeknownst to them. Since the main base was hidden away somewhere in the United States, this one was merely a place to occupy if a Mission called for it. They had been in Paris for a little over two months though, which meant Widowmaker had to deal with Sombra and Reaper in much closer proximity than she’d prefer. 

She reached the hangar and found Maximilian standing outside the door of a small aircraft. The omnic regarded her with the same standoffish attitude as usual, somehow his discontent with her presence was very clear on his unmoving face.

“Widowmaker,” the leader nodded when she dipped her head in polite greeting, “Functioning status?”

“Operating as expected, Maximilian, sir.”

“What happened to your face?” His visual receptors caught sight of the bruises, somehow looking at her in distaste.

“Reaper lost his temper,” she replied lowly, “A mistake on my part, it will not happen again. Moira fixed me and I am functional, the bruising is merely a cosmetic issue.”

“I see,” he nodded and then gestured to the aircraft, “You know your mission?”

“Locate the Overwatch safe house and determine who remains in France, _oui_.”

“Indeed. You know of their possible whereabouts?”

Widowmaker nodded, “Lacroix’s memories tell me Annecy was an important place. It is where she grew up, where her and the husband lived, and presumably that is where Overwatch is most likely to reside.”

“Annecy... that is far, is it not?”

“Five and a half hours by car, but the aircraft can get me there undetected in under an hour I’m sure.”

“Very well,” Maximilian replied, “Get going then.”

“Yes sir.”

“And, Widowmaker?”

“Yes, Maximilian?” Widowmaker had already climbed the steps to the aircraft so she turned to look at the omnic.

“No shots unless absolutely necessary,” he ordered, “I want all of them alive... for now.”

The assassin stifled a sigh and nodded, getting into the ship. The door shut behind her and she took a seat, being the only person save for the pilot on board.

“Surveillance,” Widowmaker scoffed, “Why would they send a perfectly trained  assassin for a surveillance mission? Even Sombra could do this on her own.”

She continued her quiet grumbling for most of the way there, switching to French at some point when she realized the ship was probably bugged. She muttered about everything that was bothering her, simply because she had nothing better to do. It was best to get it all out now before she was on surveillance; as she would have to be silent for hours after she landed.

“Stupid foolish girl,” Widowmaker muttered, “Getting herself shot like a dumbass.”

It’s not that Widowmaker  wanted  to think about Tracer, but her thoughts kept drifting back there. It was beginning to annoy her, how often the small Brit flashed through her mind.Really it shouldn’t happen at all, not with the way her conditioning left her brain wired. She was supposed to only think to kill, certainly not to get distracted worrying about her enemy’s injury. If Moira knew of this she would have a hay day messing with the conditioning again, and Widowmaker would do anything to avoid more of that. So what if she was more conscious than usual? No one had to know.

“Arriving in Annecy in 15 minutes,” the ship’s AI droned monotonously.

_“Mon dieu_,” widowmaker cursed under her breath, “Let this mission go by quickly. Why must I waste my time on surveillance?”

When the ship stopped to hover above a rooftop in a quiet part of the town, Widowmaker stood. She adjusted her rifle sling and popped her comm into her ear, immediately hearing a familiar voice a bit too loudly.

“Lacroix,” Doomfist’s accent made the last name sound foreign to her, though at this point in her brainwashing Widowmaker was unsure if Gérard’s name was ever familiar at all.

“_Oui, monsieur Doomfist_?” Her brain still half stuck in her native language, knowing he would understand those few regardless.

“Keep an eye out for Overwatch agents but also any suspicious looking omnics; they have been known to canoodle with those useless machines.”

Widowmaker had to stifle an almost monotonous laugh, hearing a dull thump as Maximillian undoubtedly smacked the leader upside the head. 

Doomfist huffed, “Don’t let your guard down, Widowmaker. That being said, no shots unless absolutely necessary.”

“Affirmative.”

“Good,” Doomfist hummed, “Don’t step out of line again, we wouldn’t want to have to put down our precious spider for disobedience; now would we?”

“_Non_, sir,” Widowmaker replied through gritted teeth, letting out a sigh when the comm line went dead. She was left in silence, save for the sound of the hovering plane as she went to open the door.

They would never let Widowmaker live it down, that split second hesitation. The screaming voice in her mind that told her to spare Lena. She shouldn’t have listened, she should have followed her programming. Now she was being punished simply because her enemy was still alive at her fault.

“Foolish girl,” she muttered, “Get out of my head.” 

***

Those long hours on rooftops were Widowmaker’s safe space. Despite her being technically out in the open, she never felt safe anywhere else. She had become claustrophobic due to her treatments, the straps that bound her to the tables always too tight. The tiny cement box that she spent every non-working hour in made her feel like a caged animal. Out in the open though, she could lurk in silence and not be seen. She was exposed but also concealed, not backed into a corner with no chance of escaping.

She had found the safe house in a mere half hour. After hopping over rooftops and using her infrared scope to see into buildings, she caught sight of a familiar willowy woman that immediately gave away their location.

It was amusing to Widowmaker, to see Angela Ziegler away from prying eyes. She lost her hardened attitude that came with years of being a trauma medic and became a different person. She looked smaller, almost meek, shuffling around the room she had clearly tried to turn into a makeshift medical area. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, pacing around the area like a trapped, injured lioness.

“Ah, Angela,” Widowmaker hummed softly, watching through the open window, “So troubled.” 

She watched a bit longer, noting that the Swiss woman merely paced and seemed to mutter to herself. She did seem worried, but that was to be expected. Angela Ziegler had always been a mother hen, with one of her children injured she was undoubtedly upset and feeling helpless without all her medical supplies.

Widowmaker’s interest piqued when the door opened, revealing a muscled woman who’s image made her scowl. Fareeha Amari, how she had grown. So much like her mother yet so different, a soldier but not as hardened by war as Ana had been. Alive, nonetheless, and fussing over the previous subject of Widowmaker’s observations.

She was speaking to Angela in what looked like a gentle tone, a worried hand grabbing her shoulder. The doctor reacted with an annoyed shrug, though she sighed and begrudgingly apologized to Fareeha. Trouble in paradise? Widowmaker shrugged, not her business and certainly not information Talon would value.

She turned her scope to another open blind, fussing with the zoom before she finally caught sight of someone. A thin girl walking past the window, she barely looked older than a teenager, carrying a pair of crutches. Curious, Widowmaker leaned a bit over the edge of the building and focused her view a bit.

The girl, Hana Song according to her previous research on Overwatch affiliates, had walked over to the only bed in the room. There laid a sickly looking thing, a shell of who Widowmaker knew her as, Lena Oxton.

“Oh,” Widowmaker found herself saying, “_Pauvre chiot...”_

Tracer was slumped into the mountain of pillows propping her up, looking at Hana with a sour expression. The younger was obviously trying to get her to stand up, but the injured woman shook her head firmly. Widowmaker knew it was way too early for ambulation at that point, not with the extent of Reaper’s damage. Ziegler must know that too, so why was the young agent trying to hard to pry Lena from her blankets.

“Interesting...”

Hana had succeeded in getting Tracer in a sitting position and was trying to get her to swing her legs over the bed. The Brit was clearly protesting, clinging tightly to her friend as pain shot through her tightly bound injury. The agony was apparent on her face and it made the sniper want to yank Hana off her, something in her mind protesting at the sight.

Widowmaker was shocked when she felt a pang of something in her stomach, a wave of worry and guilt washing over her. The intensity of them hit her harsher than Reaper’s fist; she hadn’t felt those emotions in ages, didn’t even think she could anymore. Why did her body have such a response to Tracer’s pain like that? Why wasn’t her programming pleased with the sight?

“_Merde_,” she spit in annoyance at her own thoughts, unsure of what to do. She should be checking other rooms for more Overwatch agents, clarifying who was in France, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the sight before her. Hana had slipped out of the room by that point, probably to get Angela, leaving Tracer alone on the chair beside the widow.

The woman was slouched over herself, hand holding tightly onto the windowsill for a semblance of support. Her teeth were gritted in pain as she tried to distract herself, clearly wanting to go back to bed to avoid this situation longer.

Widowmaker jumped when Tracer made asudden movement. Noise from out on the street made her turn to the window, glancing out into the twilight. The motion made Widowmaker held her breath, she should be further away, she chose a rooftop too close by for secure surveillance. A rookie mistake for an assassin of her stature, especially when she locked eyes with her subject.

Tracer had clearly spotted her, her brain working overtime in her pained haze. It took a moment before a look of recognition crossed her face, quickly morphing to confusion and pain. Widowmaker cursed under her breath, mind screaming to hide, to duck, to run, but she couldn’t bring herself to move.

The injured woman propped herself up in the windowsill, leaning closer to the pane as she gazed at the assassin across the way. She could see the familiar outline of her enemy on the roof, the telltale glowing red eyes on her helmet and the anxious shifting of having been spotted.

This was wrong, Widowmaker thought, what in the world was she thinking?

Tracer’s mouth moved as she spoke to herself, one word that Widowmaker felt hit her harder than it ever had before. The distance between them didn’t matter, nor did the fact that she couldn’t hear Lena. It rung through the silence surrounding her, blaring in her skull like a knife to the brain.

“Amélie...” 


End file.
